


Falling, by any other name

by Rosabella98



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 00:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19878769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosabella98/pseuds/Rosabella98
Summary: All Steve and Peggy wanted was a quiet wedding. They should have known better.Or, how one determined lifestyle reporter outed the biggest secret wedding of the century and started a major international incident in a quiet corner of Brooklyn.Very much AU.





	1. 00:00

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not really sure how this idea came to me but this is just a fun AU. I picked and chose what parts of canon to include and this won't be super long but I'm trying to get it all posted by the end of summer.

Clint and Natasha took the fall.

They walked out, hand in hand, into the bright flashes of the cameras from the hundreds of reporters who had flocked to cover the assembly of famous faces and Avengers, and the Hydra assassins that lurked unseen among them.

“Do you have eyes on them, Barton,” Natasha asked, speaking out of the side of her mouth to avoid the reporters catching her words. Her arm was lightly tucked into the crook of his elbow, his hand covering hers so that the small but deadly knife she held was hidden from the sight of the cameras.

Natasha was smiling tightly, but it wasn’t the smile Clint was used to seeing on his Tasha’s face. It was the smile he’d seen a thousand times, on the face of Natalie, Natalia, the Black Widow, and a hundred of other covers. He gripped her hand tighter, and her smile quirked up infinitesimally as she glanced his way. “At least two snipers in the rooftops, no eyes on the ones posing as journalists yet.”

“When I figure out how they found out about this, they're dead,” Natasha asked as they finally left the steps and walked towards the car, their progress impeded by the voluminous white gown that Natasha was wearing. “And why did she have to pick this dress, of all things”.

Clint was focused on scanning the crowds, always keeping the two snipers on the roof within his peripheral vision, but his mask cracked a bit and he smirked at her, “You look gorgeous, Tash.”

She softened imperceptibly, but he knew. He always knew. Just like she knew every minutia of his movements, of his moods, he could read her tiniest movement and shifts. “Still no movement in the crowd, but they’ll make their move before we reach the car,” she replied, back to the consummate professional.

“So, exactly like Budapest, then,” Clint said, smirking down at her. God, sometimes he forgot just how much of a height difference there was between the two of them, especially when she wasn’t wearing her usual heels.

One of Natasha’s perfect eyebrows arched up in amusement, treading a well-worn path between the two of them. “Barton, I’ve already told you that you and I remember Budapest very differently.”

And with a shared smile, they turned around to face the oncoming onslaught as the world around them went to hell in a handbasket.


	2. 2 hours earlier

All that Steve and Peggy had wanted was a quiet wedding. A white dress for her, his military uniform for him (not the iconic Captain American one, but rather the khaki standard issue he’d signed up to wear for his country oh so long ago), a priest in a church, their closest friends watching, a spot to dance after. It didn’t seem that much to ask, not after all they’d been through together and apart. They’d somehow managed to beat time and Thanos to reunite, in the same century, and now all they wanted was to be together officially. 

Their wedding planning had resembled a SHIELD mission, mostly because Maria Hill was more familiar with planning undercover missions than a wedding. Officially, the bride was in a deep cover assignment in Brazil, while Steve was in California at a fundraiser with top Army Brass (and Maria was damn proud of the look-alikes she’d found to play the parts). Bucky, as the best man, had been put in charge of the rings, and had glared the jeweler into top-secrecy, as well as gotten quite a deal for Steve and Peggy. Pepper, meanwhile, had been asked as maid of honor, and had worked on adding a feminine touch – flowers, a photographer (well, Phil Coulson and a camera, but he turned out to have quite the artistic touch) – to the proceedings, as well as swearing all the suppliers to top secrecy. Many of them, terrified of Pepper as they were, wouldn’t have dreamed saying anything either way, and those who weren’t were cowed by the threat of Iron Man (and if many of them were under the impression that this was Pepper and Tony’s own wedding, well who was she to correct them if it kept them off the right track?). 

Yet somehow, despite all the secrecy, all the careful planning, someone got wind of it. They’d managed to keep Hydra; Ross and his goons; and any of the countless rogue enemies that the Avengers kept attracting in the dark; but they proved no match for a determined lifestyle reporter after a scoop on the Avengers’ personal lives. 

No one knew how word had leaked. Maybe one of the vendors had talked, but again they had all been trusted. Maybe they had a brother or a sister or a cousin or an aunt who knew a member of the paparazzi. Or maybe someone had spotted Peggy trying on her dress, or her and Steve’s visits to the little church in Brooklyn, or any of the other millions other ways that someone could have found out. Who knew. But the problem was that Steve and Peggy’s wedding was starting, and there were approximately hundreds of paparazzi and reporters outside the little parish church in Brooklyn next to where Steve and Bucky had grown-up, where their families were now buried. 

It was also obvious that the reporters outside had no idea whose wedding it was. Walking through them in disguise (which for him was nothing more than a baseball hat, having one those indistinguishable, all-American faces), Clint had heard every possible pairing of the Avengers being coupled up at this wedding. His personal favorite was Tony and the Hulk, and he couldn’t wait to see Tony’s face when he told him just how many of the journalists seriously believed him and Dr. Banner’s alter-ago were getting hitched. 

What he liked much less was the amount of people broadcasting their location this meant. Hydra wouldn’t be far behind the hoard of journalists, and that just wouldn’t do. The Captain and Mrs. Captain did not need those particular wedding crashers. No one was going to ruin their day, not while the Avengers had anything to say about it. 

“We’ve got a problem,” Clint said, once he’d managed to sneak into the church by going around back, scaling the bell tower, and then dropping next to the bell, scaring an altar boy half to death in the process. 

“What kind of a problem, Barton,” Natasha asked, not startled at all by his appearance in the vestibule where the wedding party was getting ready. Natasha, for once, was out of her tactical gear and into a gown that she had actually chosen. Peggy had asked her to be one of her bridesmaids, alongside Pepper as the maid of honor and Maria Hill, and Nat had agreed without needing to be convinced, surprising Clint. 

“What, I have a soft spot for weddings,” Natasha had said, “close your mouth Barton, it isn’t becoming”. 

Peggy had been far too sensible to force all three of her bridesmaids into hideous, matching dresses for the sake of unity in a photograph. She had liked each of the three women as friends because of their fierce individuality and strength, and she wanted that highlighted at her wedding, not hide it away. However, she had asked each of them to choose a shade of red, to match the bouquet of red roses she was holding and the dress she herself had worn when she and Steve had first danced, incorporating that moment in the day’s festivities. 

Pepper had chosen for herself a dark red gown, that fell across one shoulder in a whisper of organza and draped down in a gentle A-line to the floor. Maria had chosen a slighter lighter shade of red and a dress with cap sleeves and bodice covered in lace, with a similar A-line shape as Pepper’s. But Natasha. This wasn’t the first time that Clint had seen Natasha in a gown like this one – she, in fact, often was required to wear gowns far more revealing than this on missions. And yet the bombshell red satin dress with its Bardot v-neckline and soft mermaid skirt fit Natasha to a T, and more than that, she had chosen this dress for herself and she owned it. Clint was in complete awe of her. 

“Tasha, you look… wow,” Clint breathed out, taking in Natasha and momentarily forgetting the reason why he sought his partner out. 

“Shakespeare had nothing on you when it comes to words,” she shot back, but her smile widened just a bit at the compliment. “Focus, Barton. What’s the problem?” 

Clint shook himself a bit, clearing the fog that had momentarily descended over him. “Right, yes problem. We have one. There are approximately 300 reporters outside and you can bet if Hydra is not already among them, they will be in the next few minutes.” 

Natasha swore in Russian. “Not today.” 

“The only thing we’ve got going for us at the moment is that it seems they have no idea whose wedding we’re celebrating,” Clint said, a glimmer in his eye that Natasha immediately caught. 

"We need a plan. Make yourself useful and go find Bucky and bring him over here since you’re not even supposed to be in here with the bridal party.” 

Clint pouted. “Why must I always go fetch Bucky? He likes you better.” 

“Don’t they all?” Natasha laughed with an upturned eyebrow. 

Clint pouted even more, if that was possible. “Tony likes me better.” 

Natasha snorted. “He isn’t exactly known for good taste.” 

Clint huffed and started walking away in search of Bucky but turned around when he heard Natasha call out to him again. 

“Oh and Barton? Change into a suit. It’s a wedding, we can’t have you up there with the groom looking homeless.” 

“Can’t do that, Tash,” Clint said with a shit-eating grin, “My suit is in there with you all!”


End file.
